A World Unsuspected
by auburnrecluse
Summary: It turns out being resurrected doesn't come without side effects. As Captain Kirk struggles to come to terms with defining himself anew, his bond with his first officer helps keep him together. But is it just the bond of friendship, or something else entirely? This is a sequel of sorts and companion piece to The Descent. Kirk/Spock slash. Mature language and sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1

**A World Unsuspected**

**Chapter One **

"Captain!"

The brittle ground gave way beneath the landing party, rock and metallic shale scattering down into the cavernous drop below. It was only the vice-like Vulcan grip on Captain Kirk's arm that pulled him back, away from the collapsing earth and onto more solid ground. Kirk's heart thundered in his chest as he stared down the sharp break in the planet's surface to the looming cave beneath them. It was only the faintest brush with death, the merest whisper of it in his ear, but it unnerved him more than he expected. He swore. Loudly.

"I'm sorry Captain!" Chekov's stuttered excuses from the conn were loud in his ear. "My calculations were off. I had not anticipated the caverns to be so close to your site of landing. The magnetism of the atmosphere must have altered the readings-"

"As soon as we're off this godforsaken rock, I'm going to alter the readings on a bottle of scotch," Bones grumbled as he staggered to regain his footing not far away.

While the other officers regained their bearings, Kirk could feel Spock's eyes burning into him. Although he was convinced he hid it well, he felt thoroughly shaken and slightly nauseous. It was only the first off-ship expedition of their grand new mission, on an arid class H planet whose most dangerous aspect at the moment appeared to be a highly magnetized core (and apparently surprise caverns). It should have been a walk in the park, and already death was chasing him.

"Captain, are you alright?" Spock asked quietly, his question audible only to Kirk's ears while he did not yet release his grip on his captain's arm.

"Yeah," Kirk breathed heavily, still reeling slightly but steadied by Spock's hand until he was able to wave it off. "I'm fine."

Except that he wasn't fine, not really. For the rest of the expedition that lingering fear kept choking him, cold fingers wrapped around his throat. When Sulu stumbled over a root jutting up from the ground like a steel bar and dropped his tricorder with a clatter, Kirk's phaser was trained upon the officer before he even knew what he was doing. No one else really seemed to notice, except for Bones, who promptly forgot his concern when it started raining shards of metal that nearly shredded their protective suits to ribbons.

* * *

Captain James T. Kirk was not a religious man. In fact, he was entirely certain that by most religious standards he would have found himself burning in hellfire a thousand times over years ago. It was not lost on him, however, that the concept of resurrection was featured highly among most earthly religions and quite a few across the known universe. Conquering death seemed to be reserved for deities and pious saints. Kirk was neither of these, and yet he had been dead by every definition of the word for hours.

Genetically engineered superblood or not, the fact that Kirk had been essentially reincarnated without becoming a lunatic or a vegetable was nothing short of a miracle. It might have been enough to make a different man burn with religious fervor, or fancy himself a deity impervious to mortal things like death or failure. It might have been enough to make a better man fill with wisdom and devotion to all mankind. As it happened, the resurrected James Kirk was an awful lot like the old model save for feeling completely and utterly confused, disjointed, and at times uncomfortable in his own skin.

Everything Captain Kirk knew or thought he knew about himself had been broken apart and remade. Kirk was many things to many people – a hero, a saint, a god or a devil, depending on who you asked. He had never felt more disconnected from the person people saw, and the man he really was. He didn't feel like a hero. True, he'd saved hundreds of lives without a thought to his own. But when he had been laying there in that chamber with death readily approaching, looming over him and salivating, what he saw terrified him in a way that only made him feel like an utter coward.

The ugly truth was that experiencing death had made it real in a way that it never had been before. Death had always been an abstract concept, something that happened to other people (usually those in red shirts), but never to him. Kirk had cheated death enough that at one time it seemed like little more than a defanged viper, scary in theory but so slow to strike that it posed no real threat. Meeting death formally had completely unmanned him. It had left him cold and alone, and utterly powerless.

Death was the one foe he could not vanquish, and it was waiting for him. It was biding its time, patient and steady, until it could have Kirk in its jaws once more. Instead of feeling godlike and invincible, the resurrected James Kirk felt more human and vulnerable than ever before. Death was no longer a distant country or an abstract concept. The viper had fangs now, and he never wanted to feel them again.

It left him shaken, and often times waking up in a cold sweat to a darkness so complete it consumed him with terror. By day, he swaggered with all the bravado he could muster and pulled on his usual self like an old uniform that didn't fit quite right, but held too much sentimental value to be tossed aside. By night there was nowhere to hide, alone in his mind and in the truth of who he now knew himself to be. In the year leading up to the re-launching of the Enterprise, Kirk solved this problem deftly by never spending a night alone if he could help it. There was certainly no shortage of beautiful women on earth eager to share a hero's bed.

There was only one person who knew the truth. Spock had been there with him, had seen the fear in his eyes that threatened to swallow him whole. He had seen Kirk for how weak he really was, reduced to a sniveling coward at the prospect of death. Instead of being repulsed, Spock had shared that fear with him. Kirk had seen his own fear mirrored in Spock's face, had felt it break them both. It was the only thing that held him together, in those last moments. It was the only thing that kept him sane.

That mutual understanding continued long after those moments were a distant memory. Kirk could see it in Spock's face the moment he first was able to focus his bleary eyes on the Vulcan standing by his bed. Spock understood his fear, and perhaps even shared it. It was possible that Spock dreaded Kirk's death as much as Kirk himself now feared it. There was an unspoken resolve in those steely brown eyes.

_Never again._

* * *

After they returned to the Enterprise following that disastrous little planetary outing, Spock's weighted gaze followed Captain Kirk around the bridge without saying a word. Kirk wasn't sure when exactly he'd become fluent in the language of Spock's eyebrows, but they were very thorough inquisitors. In the end, not a word was spoken on the matter. Not even when they were standing alone in the lift, and those eyebrows interrogated him ruthlessly. Kirk merely held Spock's gaze for a moment, and shook his head. That was the end of it.

Sort of.

From that point on, Spock was never far from him. Every step Kirk took seemed to be echoed, every turn of his head brought his first officer into view. It should have been thoroughly irritating, and yet somehow it wasn't. Spock was a constant presence at his side and it steadied him. There seemed to be an unspoken understanding when Spock was present that he did not have to fear death because he would not meet it alone again.

Not long after Kirk had awakened from his two-week rebirth, Dr. McCoy refused to discharge him from the hospital until he'd sat through a lengthy explanation of post-acute-stress conditions. At the time Kirk felt refreshed, restless, and mostly just impatient to get on with being alive.

"What about Post Traumatic Death Disorder?" Jim asked with a cheeky smirk. "They got one of those yet?"

"You'd be the first. Look, could you at least pretend to take this seriously?" Bones regarded him with an impatient frown, momentarily setting aside the PADD with the informational display. "I don't think you even understand what your body's been through these past few weeks, but it's not a damn picnic."

"Well, I've been in a coma. That might have something to do with it."

"You were dead, Jim! Not just a little."

"I know, I've got it. Super dead, seriously heavy shit. Report to medical immediately if I start stabbing people in my sleep."

* * *

Kirk did not report to medical immediately, even after the incident on the planet he affectionately (and entirely unofficially) dubbed Magneto. Part of him did not want to give Bones the satisfaction, even though rationally he knew his friend was only concerned about him. The other part of him felt like reporting his variable mental state made it official, and he wasn't sure that he wanted the dubious honor of being patient zero with Post Traumatic Death Disorder. It wasn't as though it significantly compromised his ability to command the ship, and Kirk was resolved to deal with it himself: quietly, the way such things were meant to be dealt with.

It did not help matters that Kirk's favorite coping mechanism was practically off limits now that he was adrift in the vast reaches of space. It wasn't as though there were _that_ many Federation rules about sleeping with one's subordinates, although it was generally frowned upon as behavior unbecoming a senior officer when abused in excess. Kirk had certainly done so with abandon in the past, but now it seemed tacky and unprofessional to treat his crew like his own personal harem. He wondered if this meant he was maturing, or just bored.

And so Captain Kirk did his best to divert his restless energy in other, more productive ways. He spent his free time with the most varied activities he could devise: drinking the night away with Scotty and Keenser, sparring with Sulu, playing phaser-tag on the recreational deck with the younger officers, letting the beautiful Dr. Marcus teach him how to ballroom dance while discussing her newest modifications to the ship's weaponry. Diverting though all these things were, sometimes all of it felt like a performance, some grand show he put on to convince everyone that he was indeed the same man he had always been: carefree, happy, reckless and fun. It didn't come as naturally as it used to.

Sometimes it was downright exhausting.

He began to look forward to quiet nights in his study spent sitting across a table from Spock, both of them lost in thought and intense concentration on the tri-d chess match at hand. It began as just another diversion, just something else to occupy his mind and keep the shadows at bay, but over time it became the only thing that ever truly relaxed him anymore. There was no need to entertain or put on a show with Spock, who could go hours without uttering a single word and never engaged in idle chatter as a matter of course.

On one such night, after over an hour of silent tactical maneuvering, Spock's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Captain?"

Kirk glanced up from the multilevel board, which was at the moment in a heated stalemate and swung out at various angles. He quirked an eyebrow pointedly, which earned him the ghost of a smile briefly haunting that stern face.

"Jim."

"Yes?" Kirk felt the slightest bit smug that even Vulcans could be trained. Sort of.

"I would share your burden, if you will allow it."

"What?" He stared across the table at Spock in open confusion. Kirk often marveled at Spock's ability to turn standard English into an incomprehensible foreign language.

"You have named me your friend," Spock replied quietly, his voice calm and somehow gentle. There was something about the measured way the Vulcan spoke that Kirk found soothing, even when had no idea what the hell he was talking about. "It is my understanding that this title carries certain responsibilities."

"Spock, you don't owe me anything." Kirk regarded Spock with a frown, still confused by the topic but beginning to feel irritated nonetheless.

"You misunderstand. I simply wish—I can sense that you are troubled, and have been for some time. If it would ease your burden, I would be gratified if you would share the cause with me."

"Oh." Just like that, his irritation melted away, although the topic still made his head buzz with a vague anxiety. "If you want me to spill my guts, you could have just said so." It was Spock's turn to blink in confusion, no doubt on the verge explaining the anatomical impossibility. "Never mind." Kirk sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat back in his chair, the game momentarily forgotten. "So does everyone think I'm losing my mind, or is it just you?"

"Your sanity has never been called into question," Spock replied, sounding mildly affronted. He paused, however, and continued quietly again, "I am asking out of personal concern for your wellbeing."

"Oh, well in that case." Jim couldn't help a brief smile, before returning to the gravity of the topic at hand. This wasn't something that he really wanted to talk about, or think about at all, really, but somehow the genuine concern in Spock's eyes defeated him easily. In the past he would have been warier about discussing sensitive topics with his first officer, unsure what would end up in an official report, but things were different now. An unspoken trust existed between them, and somehow Kirk knew without having to ask that anything he said in confidence would never leave this room. "Shit. I don't know. Everything's just been so completely messed up ever since…"

"Since you died," Spock finished the sentence quietly, after it became clear that Kirk would not. Or could not.

"Yeah." Kirk swallowed, holding Spock's heavy gaze even though he wanted to look away, to hide from it. "You were there."

"I was."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I do not know to what specifically you are referring-"

"I was a coward, Spock!" Kirk's voice came out much louder than he had intended, and he clamped his mouth shut in a tight line. After a long pause, during which Kirk absently toyed with a discarded pawn, he finally elaborated with no small amount of bitterness, "When it came down to it, I was sniveling like a baby and I've never been so goddamn scared. Now just thinking about dying makes me want to vomit, and it never goes away. I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin half the time, or stun the next idiot who drops something."

"Jim," Spock spoke quietly, waiting until Kirk's eyes met his to continue. "There is nothing illogical about the fear of death. It is a natural response."

"Yeah well, just because it's logical doesn't mean it's something to be proud of," Kirk remarked more bitterly still.

"Perhaps. But neither is there reason for shame."

"Everyone thinks I'm this big hero. It's bullshit."

"I'm sure you are aware that true bravery is not considered to be the absence of fear, but the mastery of it."

"But I haven't mastered it! I feel like it's controlling me all the time. I never used to think twice about throwing myself off the edge of a cliff, but now it's like the slightest thing takes me right back there to that place, all alone in that room-"

"You were not alone." Spock's words were an anchor, drawing him back from the edge. It took him a moment to realize that Spock's hand was extended, just slightly, across the table, his fingers spread in that familiar gesture. Something about it made his chest clench, and his throat feel tight. "You are not alone."

Impulsively, Kirk reached out to Spock's hand and mimicked the gesture, their fingertips resting together. Spock's skin was warm and smooth against his own calloused hands, and somehow through the contact he felt an immense calm settle over him. It grounded him in a way he didn't quite understand, but somehow for the first time in months his mind was at peace.

* * *

Since that particular conversation, Kirk made it a point to speak with Spock any time he felt the icy tendrils closing in. There was something incredibly therapeutic about getting all his crazy thoughts off his chest, especially since Spock just took everything he said in stride no matter how stupid or nuts it sounded out loud. Spock always seemed to know when to listen in silence, and when to check Kirk with a dose of much needed reason. For someone from a race that prided itself in the lack of emotion, this Vulcan made an awfully good therapist. And an even better friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Jim Kirk was nothing if not observant, and he was not an idiot. Less than a year into their voyage, he could clearly see that he was choking Uhura out of Spock's life like an invasive weed. It wasn't that he didn't care. At times he could feel the lieutenant's gaze hanging heavy on his shoulders when he was deep in conversation with his first officer on the bridge, and it made his skin prickle uncomfortably. He knew full well that every moment Spock spent glued to his side, every off shift Spock spent in conversation with him over a meal or a game of chess was time stolen from someone else. It should have consumed him with guilt. Instead, it only filled him with a brutal kind of satisfaction.

God, he was a bastard. Uhura was his friend, his family, someone he'd given his life to protect. Maybe that was it. Hadn't he given enough already? Did he really have to give up the one thing that he had begun to need more than air? Spock had become like a third arm, and when he wasn't there it ached like a phantom limb. Even reincarnated gods could be selfish.

It wasn't for lack of trying to be a better person. Personally Kirk felt he did a commendable job of smiling pleasantly whenever Uhura managed to pry Spock away for a night alone, even if some dark territorial part of him wanted to snarl at her. It was primitive and selfish and stupid, and he wasn't proud of it. But nonetheless, it was there.

Jim wasn't used to being such a territorial asshole. Friends, lovers, family – he'd never been the sort to feel especially possessive of another person's time and regard. In fact he was particularly allergic to possession in terms of lovers, who he was generally more than happy to pass off to the next experience as quickly as possible once he'd had his fill. He'd been called commitment phobic more than once, usually not very kindly, but he didn't agree. He wasn't _afraid_ of commitment, it just didn't appeal to him. There was so much out there to experience, and there was always another body, another bed, another world to explore. As soon as he found something (or someone) he liked, he was always consumed with the compulsion to go on to the next thing, and the next, and the next. There was always something better just around the corner, glimmering like starlight that he could never quite catch.

It was different with Spock. Perhaps because there was nothing physical about it – god forbid, he wouldn't even let his mind go there even for a second, for fear it wouldn't be able to come back. There was something about just being around Spock that steadied and quieted him, that blanketed his turbulent psyche with calm in a way that he _needed. _There was a bond between them that he didn't quite understand, but it was intensely personal. Somehow the thought of Spock sharing something as deep or more so with anyone else made that possessive jealousy flare up like a bitter taste in his mouth that wouldn't be cleansed.

Kirk could feel the exact moment she sensed it. As usual, Uhura looked right into his eyes and cut through all the bullshit. It was as though she could see right into his dirty, petty little soul. He wasn't even sure what exactly it was she saw, but it jarred him. When she stalked off the bridge with her head high and her eyes flashing dangerously, he'd felt exposed and uncomfortable.

He didn't even have to ask what happened. The next day, Uhura put in for 12 hours of personal leave and Spock's expression seemed even more severe than usual. When she returned, the frosty silence between his first officer and the lieutenant could have brought about the next ice age.

* * *

"Alright, it's your turn. Unburden yourself, or however it is you put it," Kirk informed Spock after nearly an entire evening spent in complete silence, the only sound in the captain's study being that of chess pieces shifting across the boards. He'd resolved to give Spock as much space as he needed, but as usual he was too impatient for subtlety. "It sounds better when you say it."

"I am not unduly burdened." Spock's brow was furrowed in concentration, and he did not even look up from the game.

"Bullshit." Kirk sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. "Talk to me. This friendship thing goes both ways."

With a brief sigh, the one that Spock always gave when he knew that Kirk would not let up until he indulged whatever illogical pursuit his captain was chasing after, Spock finally allowed, "Nyota and I have terminated our romantic relationship."

Even though he'd gathered as much, something about the way Spock wouldn't meet his eyes made Kirk a little queasy. He knew with an absolute certainty that this was his doing, somehow. He had willed it enough, in the dark reaches of his own mind, and it had come true. "What happened?"

"It is a personal matter." Spock's voice was terse and uncomfortable. When he looked up to meet Kirk's undeterred gaze, however, he gave that same slight, almost imperceptible sigh of defeat. "My feelings for her did not fall within acceptable parameters."

Kirk winced in sympathy, attempting to deflect the growing guilt in the pit of his stomach into something a little less damning. "Christ, not The Feelings Talk."

"I was unaware that such discussions had an official designation."

"Oh they do. Trust me, it's dreaded by men across the universe. And it's always a disaster." Kirk gave a theatrical shudder to emphasize his point. "I _hate_ The Feelings Talk."

"I was equally unaware that you had ever reached a level of romantic commitment that necessitated a Discussion of Feelings." Spock's eyebrow lifted slightly, along with the corner of his mouth. Even though it was just the smallest hint of amusement, Jim couldn't help but laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting slightly as he shook his head.

"Hey, I'm not completely shallow. I've been in love once or twice." Spock did not have to reply; his skepticism was palpable. "I'm serious. Swear to god."

"May I ask with whom?" Spock still didn't believe him. Ass.

"Lyena Bates. 2255. She was 19, had legs that went on for light years and a rack like a – I mean, she was beautiful," Kirk amended quickly, remembering his audience with a rueful smile. "Brilliant, too. Lyena taught me everything I know about coding. She could hack her way through a high security mainframe in minutes without breaking a sweat. Swore we'd run away together and start a life of crime."

"I gather she is partially to thank for your ability to make creative alterations to my program in the Kobayashi Maru exercise." Kirk couldn't help but grin at the hint of sourness that still crept into Spock's voice at the memory. Even after all this time, it still bugged Spock that Kirk beat his program.

"Damn right. She would have loved that."

"And what became of the well-endowed Miss Bates?"

"She ran off with some big shot from New Delhi with a hovercraft. She wanted out of the cornfields as much as I did, but she managed it first."

"A disappointing conclusion." There was that same hint of a smile at the corner of Spock's mouth, as though he found Kirk's agonizing tale of woe and heartache amusing. Kirk just shrugged.

"Yeah, well. I drank myself into a stupor and ended up knocked flat on my ass in front of Pike, so it worked out in the end. Still think I got the better end of the deal. Lyena's probably breaking out of a penal colony as we speak. I doubt there's anywhere in the universe that could keep her contained for long."

"Love is a complex endeavor."

"How do Vulcans even manage it?" Kirk asked with genuine curiosity, his brow furrowed. "You told me once that your future wife got picked out for you when you were a kid. How do you choose to love someone, just like that?"

"Emotions of any kind are not considered to be reliable factors in determining lifetime compatibility," Spock informed him, switching easily into what Kirk considered his 'lecture' mode. "Love matches, as a human would describe them, are not unheard of on Vulcan but they are considered inferior to a reasoned choice."

"That sounds depressing as hell."

"To the contrary. Vulcans are generally highly satisfied with their mate, and those bonds are rarely broken for the duration of their lifespan," Spock countered, sounding every bit the stuffy Vulcan. Kirk had grown to mostly find it endearing how quickly his first officer leapt to the defense of even the most bizarre aspects of Vulcan culture, even though he had clearly chosen not to partake in a great deal of it himself. It reminded Kirk a little of how he could complain about his own mother's shortcomings all day long, but the second someone else even vaguely agreed he would doggedly insist that she had done the best she could, given the circumstances. "The abandon with which humans discard and divorce their life-mates are found by Vulcans to be, as you call it, depressing."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine, so why are you running around with vulgar humans instead of prancing off into the sunset with your child bride?"

There was a brief flash of something like pain in Spock's eyes. "My intended expired along with the rest of my planet."

"Shit. I forgot about that. I mean not about Vulcan, more like- I don't know. I'm an asshole." The look Spock gave him was somehow both exasperated and fond, while also managing to barely be an expression at all. It was a skill Kirk stood in awe of.

"However," Spock continued patiently, "it is unlikely I would have completed the marriage bond with T'Pring. We were not as compatible as our early experiences led our elders to believe. She found my human heritage and my decision to join Starfleet to be distasteful."

"Sounds like an uppity bitch. No offense."

"There is none taken." If Kirk didn't know better, he would have thought that Spock agreed with him. "We were chosen for each other because the elders believed her slightly increased emotional variability would be a good match for my volatile human heritage. It was an insult that she could not countenance, and she was never completely at peace with the match."

"See, I knew that archaic Vulcan matchmaking voodoo was full of shit." Spock gave Kirk a long suffering look, which made him smile. After a moment, however, he regarded Spock with a more serious frown. "What about Uhura? Were you—I mean you seemed pretty serious about each other."

Spock paused for a long moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. "At one time, I had considered the possibility that Nyota would make an acceptable life-mate."

"You changed your mind." It wasn't a question, because the answer was obvious. What was also obvious was the statement Kirk didn't say, the one that was implied. _You don't love her._

"Yes." There it was again, that uncomfortable subtle shift in the Vulcan's expression, his face almost shutting down as he returned his attention to the board in front of them. His queen jumped several levels at once, capturing Kirk's remaining knight and cornering his king in an untenable position. "Check mate."

"Dammit."

* * *

Uhura's glacial silence seemed to extend to Captain Kirk as well, at least any time he attempted to speak to her off the bridge or outside the context of a mission. She was perfectly professional and even cordial when they were working together, although her polished smile was forced and didn't meet her eyes. He could pretend this was because her ex was usually not more than an arm's length away at any given moment, but Uhura also seemed particularly adept at never being caught alone with the captain long enough for him to test that theory. Every time he tried to corner her in a lift, the doors seemed to magically snap closed before he could reach her. If he even opened his mouth to speak about something not related to the work at hand while they were off the ship, she gave him the most exquisite Eat Shit And Die glare that shut his mouth effectively.

"So are you ever going to talk to me again?" Kirk asked her once in exasperation while they stood on a rocky outcropping, attempting to communicate with what appeared for all intents and purposes to be telepathic slime. Spock was near but out of earshot, involved in some sort of enthusiastic debate on the biological properties of said slime with Dr. Marcus. For some reason, Spock had never particularly warmed to his fellow scientist like everyone else had. Spock could be a territorial asshole too, in his own passive aggressive Vulcan way.

"I'm speaking to you now, Captain." Uhura's voice was polite but forced, and a little dangerous.

"Look, you obviously think I'm somehow-" There was that Look again, trained on him like a phaser set to kill.

"Don't."

"Uhura-"

"I'm _not_ having this conversation right now,_" _she practically spat through clenched teeth. "Just leave it alone."

"Alright, too soon. I get it."

* * *

There was a shift that occurred between Kirk and Spock, not long after the breakup. He wasn't even sure exactly what it was, or when it happened, but at some point Kirk became _Aware_ of his first officer in a way that wasn't entirely appropriate. It wasn't sexual exactly, not at first. At first it was simply sitting across from Spock one night, and being acutely _aware_ of his physical presence. Kirk could feel the heat radiating off the Vulcan as he stared in intense concentration at the chess pieces on the boards. He could feel how very _small_ the space between them was, how their legs brushed together under the table. Spock even glanced up at him briefly, as though he was Aware of Kirk's Awareness, and that was just _weird_.

Had the turbolifts always been so tiny? Had the transporters always beamed them down onto a planet standing so close together? Had Kirk's arm always brushed his First Officer's absently when they stood together at the console, examining a new planet's specs closely? And why the almighty fuck were Starfleet uniforms so goddamn formfitting, anyway? Did they realize how distracting that could be when he was trying very hard not to pay attention to someone's body?

It was official. Captain Kirk was losing his mind. Again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"I advise keeping in close proximity, Captain. My readings show that sonic frequency communication between the cetaceans has increased exponentially since their arrival."

Spock and Kirk were diving miles below the surface of a vast, murky ocean on a class O planet whose surface was almost entirely covered in water. The landing party had split into pairs to cover more ground, or water as it were, which left the captain and his first officer feeling slightly vulnerable with only their biosuits between them and the huge pod of whale-like cetaceans that had converged above them.

"Noted." Kirk didn't need to be reminded of caution—the creatures were huge, and by every estimation highly evolved on a planet at least as old as Earth. Despite a strong resemblance to Terran whales, they had long tentacles like those of a squid and seemed highly adept in camouflage. The sensors had only detected the animals several moments before they seemed to materialize instantly in the water above. "Kirk to Enterprise, send our coordinates to the other parties and tell them to rendezvous at our location. I think we found the civilization we were looking for." There was a long pause, and Kirk frowned. "Kirk to Enterprise." Nothing.

"I believe their sonar is interfering with our communications." Spock's voice in his ear was beginning to sound garbled and full of static. Great.

"You think?" Kirk fought back a wave of apprehension as he looked up at the huge creatures blotting out the meager light from above. "Maybe they're just curious."

"There is a strong likelihood that they find our presence alarming, I do not think-" Spock's voice cut off abruptly, and Kirk looked at him in alarm. Nothing appeared to have changed. Kirk wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he could almost feel vibrations in the water echoing through his helmet. Realizing their verbal communication had been cut off, Spock gestured a backwards hand motion that Kirk understood perfectly. Retreat.

Kirk and Spock were slowly backing away in unison when it happened. One of the smaller creatures drifted in closely, a tentacle reaching out and brushing over Kirk's helmet. It was a gentle touch, one that seemed more searching and curious than anything. Abruptly, however, one of the larger animals darted in and violently slapped Kirk back, sending him hurling away in the water.

As he struggled to retain buoyancy, Kirk could see the warning shot Spock fired lighting up the water, forcing the pod of cetaceans to disperse. A jet of air was streaming from the back of Kirk's biosuit, and the viewing window of his helmet was afire with red warnings. The suit was compromised, and oxygen was leaking out. Fast. Kirk knew that now was the time for action, to find one of those brilliant solutions he was famous for to cheat death once again. Instead he was immobilized, both his mind and body frozen with inaction. He could feel the cold fingers on the back of his neck, those primal whispers in his ear. Death was clawing at him, dragging him off as a prize. The blackness closed in on him quickly.

* * *

When Kirk opened his eyes, it was in very dim light that blurred around the edges as he tried to focus. Eventually he was able to process the fact that he was kneeling down on a rocky surface in what appeared to be a cave, and his helmet was off. Despite the fact that oxygen was now flowing freely into his lungs, he still felt as though he could not breathe. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was shaking uncontrollably. He only vaguely registered that someone was speaking to him.

"Listen to me, Jim. Focus on my voice and calm your breathing." It was Spock, who was kneeling in front of Kirk and holding him upright by his shoulders. Somehow Spock had found one of the caves the Enterprise had scanned in their initial assessment of the planet. Although there was no land on the surface, there were formations under the water and several had pockets of oxygen rich enough to sustain life. "It is imperative that you regain your composure before I hail the Enterprise to retrieve us."

The whole thing didn't seem quite real. Kirk felt as though he was standing far away, perfectly numb, as he watched himself falling apart in front of his first officer. From his detached viewpoint, he knew that Spock was right. His crew could not see him like this. He tried to communicate this to his trembling body and only managed to make it speak with great effort. His voice sounded raw and unfamiliar to himself. "Trying. I can't-"

"You must." He could see Spock weighing his options before raising a hand as though to strike him. It was the logical choice to snap him out of this; it was what Kirk himself would have done in Spock's position. The blow never came. Spock lowered his hand and seemed to deliberate for a long moment. Then Kirk was being dragged up to his feet, and Spock was kissing him hard on the mouth.

Pure shock shoved Kirk back into his own body in an instant, and all he could feel for a long moment was the warm press of lips against his own. It thawed the cold dread that had threatened to freeze him solid, and in its place he felt the beginnings of the calm steadiness that Spock always seemed to summon so easily.

When Spock finally released him, Kirk staggered back but kept to his feet. "What-"

"You must find a way to master this." Spock's expression was severe, but his voice was not. Somehow he made what may have sounded like a lecture in any other circumstance come across as an urgent plea. "You cannot let it consume you."

"You think I don't know that?" Kirk wasn't sure why he was yelling, as he swayed unsteadily but gave Spock a forbidding look when he stepped forward to assist. Kirk's mouth was still warm, but the rest of him was cold. "I'm doing my best, here. We're not all robots like you, Spock. I can't just turn something off when it's inconvenient. Humans don't work that way."

"I would assist you if I could," Spock said quietly, showing no sign of offense at Kirk's lashing out. "However, I confess I do not know how."

"Well that makes two of us."

"I will hail the Enterprise now." Spock turned away from him with a frown etched more deeply on his face than Kirk had thought possible for a Vulcan. "I suggest you report to medical to assess your condition."

* * *

"What the devil happened out there, Jim?" Bones was scanning Kirk in a private corner of the medical bay, and frowning at the results. "Your vitals are all over the place."

"Spock didn't tell you?" Kirk eyed his friend with apprehension. The moment they returned to the ship, Spock had promptly escorted him to medical and had a brief conversation with the doctor out of his earshot.

"He told me to ask you. And make you answer." Bones scowled at him. "Don't make me break out the truth serum, because so help me-"

"It's fine, Bones. I'm fine." Kirk held the doctor's gaze defiantly for a moment before he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Alright, I'm not fine. I think I'm losing my mind."

"And?" Bones smirked gently at the dirty look Kirk aimed his way. "I'm just waiting for you to tell me something I don't already know, here."

"This is why you'd make a lousy psychiatrist, Bones." Kirk managed a small smile, rolling his eyes. McCoy shrugged, before returning to an intent frown.

"Tell me what happened, Jim."

Kirk did. He started from the beginning, ignoring Bones' exasperated sighs when he divulged exactly how long this had been going on. To the doctor's credit, however, he listened without comment until Kirk was completely finished (although he did leave out a few details about what happened in the cave). He looked at Bones expectantly, dreading his reply the longer the silence stretched.

"Look, I'm going to be completely honest with you," Bones finally said after seeming to weigh his words carefully. "You're an idiot."

"Oh thanks, that's comforting."

"No, let me finish. I know you weren't listening, but I told you from the start that we were slogging through uncharted territory without a compass. Humans just aren't built to come back from the dead, Jim. You'd only be insane if it _didn't_ affect you in some way."

Kirk sighed, running a hand over his face and feeling more than a little exhausted. "So how do I fix it? I can't command this ship if I'm going to curl up in the fetal position every time I almost die. In case you haven't noticed, brushes with death are part of my job description."

"Actually it's not." Bones folded his arms stubbornly. "You know as well as I do that starship captains are supposed to sit in that cushy chair and let everyone else dance with the devil."

"And you know as well as I do that's never going to happen." Kirk scowled at Bones just as stubbornly. "That's not the kind of captain I am, or ever wanted to be."

"I guess my job would be a lot less exciting if you weren't such a hopeless adrenaline junkie." Bones rolled his eyes. "The point is, it wouldn't be the worst thing if you stopped flirting with death every time you left the ship. This may be your mind's way of telling you it's time to learn to weigh the risks instead of throwing yourself into danger just for the sake of it."

"So that's your advice? Be more careful?"

"For what it's worth, not that you'll take it. I mean good god, at least give Spock a break from fretting over you like a mother hen. Poor guy looked like he was about to vomit when he dragged you down here, and for someone that's already green that's pretty damn impressive."

Kirk let his mind drift back to his first officer with a frown. As Bones would so colorfully put it, that was a completely different can of worms he wasn't ready to open yet. "He's a good friend."

Bones made a noncommittal sound as he eyed the captain knowingly.

"What?"

"Nothing." There was that same smug smirk. It was irritating. "Anyway, while I've got your attention, let go over some relaxation techniques before you start tuning me out again. If those don't work, I've got some hypos with your name on them."

* * *

Over a week later, Kirk and Spock were working alone in the moderately sized shuttle that was currently functioning as a temporary biolab and outpost parked at the bottom of that vast ocean. By now they had managed to successfully communicate with the cetaceans and the unearthly wail of their sonar radiated from the console like some sort of bizarre meditation mix. Spock's hands were flying over the computer as he processed the information being sent back from the other officers fanned out across the planet in smaller crafts, while Kirk stared out the large viewing window that painted the room with a dappled green-grey light.

They had not spoken about what happened in the cave. Bones told Kirk he gave Spock a few mild sedation hypos to keep on hand in case of another meltdown, but Kirk didn't intend to give a repeat performance. Kirk threw himself into studying the relaxation and calming techniques Bones gave him with a dedication that impressed even the cynical doctor. This was no longer just an annoyance—it was war, and it was one that Kirk intended to win.

There was something else, however, that was steadily driving Kirk to distraction. Now that Kirk knew what it felt like to kiss Spock, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. It was entirely possible that there was no deeper meaning to any of it, and that kissing him was just Spock's logical solution to a problem. But it only made that prickling awareness worse, and every time Spock was near him it was never near enough.

"I've been thinking about that whole mess with the volcano. You remember that?" Kirk's eyes settled on the back of Spock's neck, his first officer's fingers never stilling and his head not turning from the console. Regardless, Kirk could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in Spock's voice when he spoke.

"I believe you have already made your point regarding the incident quite effectively on multiple occasions."

"Before we beamed you out, Bones said that if the positions were reversed, you'd let me die." The constant skittering of Spock's hands over the console stopped abruptly as his entire body went still. Kirk didn't know why he was doing this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Was he right?"

"Captain."

"Was he?" There was a long pause, the strange warbling sonar filling the now quiet room. Spock's posture was rigid.

"At the time…yes." Even though Kirk knew the answer, hearing it made him swallow. Before the unfortunate incident earlier, it had been months since thoughts of death had paralyzed him or chased him into his dreams. The reason for this was sitting there in front of him, staring unblinkingly down at the console. In his gut, Kirk knew that he could trust Spock with his life without question. For whatever reason, he was currently possessed with the urge to make Spock say this out loud, to acknowledge the change between them.

"And now?"

Spock finally turned in his chair to face Kirk, and the unguarded pain in the Vulcan's intense gaze punched him in the chest. "I have already watched you expire once, Jim." Spock's voice was quiet. "Now I find that I would do anything within my power to avoid that conclusion a second time. Regardless of the cost."

"Even if it meant breaking a regulation?" Kirk swallowed again, his throat suddenly a little tight, and he moved to stand closer to Spock as though drawn to him.

"If necessary, yes." Spock paused, before adding more softly still, "I have discovered there are certain bonds that override one's commitment to duty."

Before Kirk could think better of it, he reached out to let his fingers brush the side of that stern face. Spock's hand reached up to cover it before he could withdraw, holding his hand in place. His skin was so warm.

"I would break every Starfleet regulation on record to keep you from perishing again."

"You kissed me." Kirk's voice was a hoarse whisper now, as though voicing a secret even the empty shuttle could not overhear.

"Yes." Spock sounded so calm and sure in contrast, and not the slightest bit sorry. "I did."

In absence of a coherent reply, Jim Kirk leaned forward and claimed Spock's lips for his own. It was quite a bit softer and more hesitant than Kirk normally kissed anyone. He was usually so sure of himself, but this time he half expected Spock to freeze up in horror or push him away.

Spock did freeze for a moment, and in that moment Kirk's stomach dropped. Then Spock's other hand was on his neck, pulling him in, his mouth open and inviting and god, there had never been a better kiss than this one, ever, Kirk was sure of it. Every point where their skin touched was ablaze with sensation, and suddenly that Awareness expanded in a breathless gasp. It was like he was kissing and being kissed at the same time, which was just _nuts_ but it was amazing and if this is what losing his mind felt like, Kirk never wanted to be sane again.

The computer's alert that another shuttle was docking gave them precious little time to spring apart. Kirk was gazing at the viewing window with interest while Spock stared at the console as though he'd forgotten how to operate it when Uhura, Sulu, and Martinez walked in. Uhura was the only one who eyed them sharply, and Kirk knew he was breathing too fast even as he tried to sound casual while asking for their report.

* * *

Standing in the lift with Uhura on the way back to the bridge was probably the most uncomfortable two minutes of Kirk's existence, and that included the ones in which he was dying. For once he was the one avoiding her gaze, and when she reached out to press the brake he shut his eyes, cursing whoever designed the damn things to stop so easily. He was fairly certain that in the history of turbolifts, there had never been a single true emergency stop and clearly this power was too easily abused.

"I'm only going to say this once, and you're going to listen," Uhura said, and her while her voice had an edge sharp enough to cut steel, it lacked the venom Kirk was expecting. He opened his eyes, glancing at her curiously. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. "Don't hurt him."

"What?" It was so completely out of the realm of what he expected her to say that Kirk blinked. "I have no idea-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Uhura insisted, her eyes burning into him intently. "If this is just a game to you, some big conquest, you need to walk away now." She hesitated before adding more softly, "He deserves better than that."

At a loss, Kirk just stared at her for a long moment. "It's not a game." Uhura's face voiced her skepticism, and suddenly he just felt tired and annoyed and confused all at once. "It's not, alright? I don't know what it is, but this isn't some fucking conquest—I wouldn't do that. Not to him."

"Good." Uhura stared him down for another minute more before she pressed the brake again, facing forward as though nothing had happened. Kirk continued to stare at her.

"You deserve better, too."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Kirk couldn't sleep. He hadn't even tried for more than a few minutes before he gave up, scrolling through Waterworld's specs (another of his pet names) on his PADD for half an hour before he gave up focusing on that, too. Currently he was pacing his quarters like a tiger in a cage, trying to decide if he wanted to give up all semblance of rest and finish his night shift off in the gym on the recreational level, or something else entirely. He'd checked Spock's status on the console and it was set to orange, which meant 'do not disturb' with the exception of emergencies and senior officers. Since Kirk was Spock's only senior officer on the ship, it was basically an open invitation.

Against his better judgment, Kirk found himself walking across the hall to the first officer's personal quarters as though pulled by an invisible rope. He wasn't even entirely sure what he wanted to happen, but _something_ needed to happen. The door opened easily in recognition of his voice, and as he walked inside Kirk's eyes adjusted to the dim light and quickly found Spock seated on the floor in the middle of the room. His legs were crossed, his eyes were shut, and he did not look up. Meditating. Of course. Kirk watched him in silence for several minutes before Spock finally acknowledged his presence.

"I find it increasingly difficult to behave logically in your presence." Spock did not open his eyes when he spoke, his voice quiet and even.

"Yeah well, you and me both." Kirk paced across the room, and finally flopped down on the rug across from Spock. If they were going to have this conversation, it was going to be face to face. "Would you look at me?" Spock's eyes opened. He could feel Spock's heavy gaze like a physical touch, brushing over his skin. Now that he had Spock's complete attention, Kirk found himself at a loss for words. There had been so many of them buzzing around in his head just a few seconds before, but now everything flew out in a rush like a startled swarm.

"I do not wish to compromise-" Spock began after a long pause, and Kirk shook his head. He had thought they needed to talk about this, but suddenly it seemed unnecessary. Kirk had never been one to sit around discussing a matter at length when a simple, decisive action would suffice.

"Spock." One of those eyebrows arched up quizzically at the interruption, and Kirk couldn't help but smile, just a little. Kirk closed the very slight distance between them easily, and this time he was not remotely tentative. This time, Spock's mouth pressed against his felt a little bit like coming home.

Spock's fingers curled around his wrist, and he felt an impossible rush of heat surge through him at the point of contact. Kirk was beyond trying to reason through how this Vulcan affected him, and made a conscious choice to just go with it. There was nothing uncertain about this now, as Kirk buried his other hand in Spock's hair and pulled him in closer, kissing him with all of the pent of want and frustration that had been pooling within him for far longer than he cared to admit.

To his surprise, Kirk suddenly found himself pinned to the floor with very little warning. Spock was everywhere- in his mouth, pressing against his body, pressing against his _thoughts_. It made Kirk's head spin. The hand that wasn't pinning his wrist down found way to Kirk's face, long fingers settling over his temple and cheek. It was only here that Spock hesitated, and Kirk wasn't having any of it. He was already through the rabbit hole, and he wasn't going to stop now. His free hand settled over Spock's, lacing their fingers together loosely in what he hoped was an invitation because he couldn't find the will to rip his mouth away from Spock's long enough to speak.

It was nothing like the first and only Vulcan mind meld Kirk had previously experienced, and it probably wasn't meant to be. Instead of seeing anything, he felt- god, he felt _everything_. He was touching and being touched at the same time, every sensation magnified in an endless echo like two mirrors pointed at each other. His senses were overloaded with nothing but Spock, Spock, Spock. He wasn't even sure if he was thinking or saying Spock's name but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

Each new sensation blurred into the next, and their bodies moved in perfect sync as they burned with the need and lust that ricocheted between them. Kirk wasn't really sure when exactly the white-hot pleasure burnt out every last functioning synapse in his brain but when he came to, Spock had collapsed against him heavily, their chests heaving as one.

"Holy shit." Kirk's voice was hoarse, when he could actually gather himself enough to speak. By his normal standards, what just happened was barely second base but it was too intense to matter. Vulcan sex was clearly the best kept secret in the universe. He grinned, laughing breathlessly against Spock's neck. He could feel the curve of a small smile against his own skin.

"Indeed."

* * *

It wasn't an isolated incident. Once the forbidden fruit had been tasted, Kirk couldn't get enough of it. He felt like a lust-addled teenager again, except he had considerably more willpower this time around and he was able to keep it in his pants on duty for the most part. As soon as he got Spock alone, however, all bets were off. And they were off against the floor, his desk- pretty much any nearest surface would suffice.

It took almost a week before they even made it to a bed, and actually managed to shed all of their clothes in the process, no less. It turned out not to matter much in the end who was on top, since by that point their minds were so intensely wrapped around each other that the experience was too symbiotic to make a difference. Kirk was pretty sure that Spock was smugly aware he had ruined normal, non-telepathic human sex for him pretty much _forever_.

Once, while they were tangled together mind numbed bliss in Kirk's overlarge bed, Kirk found himself carelessly wondering how Uhura managed to ever walk away from this with her sanity intact. He felt Spock tense, both in his mind and against him, and the link broke abruptly.

"Ow." Kirk winced at the sudden ache in his head, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes as Spock rolled off him. "What was that for?"

"I apologize." Spock lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, and his voice was flat when he spoke. Kirk shifted onto his side to stare at Spock, his brief disoriented annoyance shifting quickly into understanding.

"You didn't do this with her."

"We copulated on numerous occasions."

"But not like this. Not-"

"Our minds were not as one, no. She was not…" Spock trailed off. Kirk knew he was missing something important that would probably be instantly obvious to another Vulcan, but he was flying blind. Not for the first time, he felt like he was stranded on a foreign planet without an adequate translator. Interspecies relationships were a bitch.

"I guess it's time for that Feelings Talk, huh?" Kirk gave a resigned sigh, flopping back onto the pillows with dread.

"Despite your aversion to the practice, it does seem that a discussion is warranted." After a long pause, during which neither of them seemed inclined to draw first blood, Spock finally sat up. "This may be more productive utilizing a different method of communication. With your permission…"

His curiosity piqued, Kirk sat up as well, shifting until they were facing each other. He wasn't sure if The Feelings Talk would be any less excruciating without the actual Talking part, but he was willing to give it a shot. Reaching out, he caught Spock's hand and pressed it to his face. "Go for it."

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," Spock murmured, and Kirk fought the urge to ask him if saying that before every formal mind meld was necessary or just some kind of Vulcan OCD thing.

Kirk couldn't say that he ever got used to the feeling of someone else's mind inside his head, but it was less jarring every time. It was different this time than their sexual encounters; Spock's presence in his mind was more controlled and conversational than raw sensation overwhelming his every thought. At first the words echoing in his mind were in Vulcan and utterly incomprehensible to him until suddenly they weren't. _You have value to me beyond what I can quantify._

_God, even your romantic side sounds like an uptight professor. _Annoyance and amusement rippled through his thoughts in equal measure. It melted away quickly into a questioning uncertainty, and Kirk honestly couldn't tell which one of them it belonged to. It disoriented him more than a little.

An image flashed into focus, and Kirk found himself staring into his own muted, lifeless eyes. Horror made his blood run cold. Spock had felt it, when Jim died. That vibrant mind, always so aflame with energy, snuffed out right in front of him while he was helpless to stop it. Spock was immediately overwhelmed with a senseless agony that he couldn't understand or control. It filled him with a primal rage that eluded all logic, it clouded his senses in a red mist that would only be satisfied with blood- Kahn's blood, splattered all over the ground.

Spock felt it again, the moment the dim flame of his captain's mind fluttered back into existence and slowly began to kindle brighter and hotter over the span of fourteen endless days. He felt tied to it, somehow, as though if he were not there to guard that spark of life it would sputter out and disappear forever. For three hundred and thirty hours exactly, Spock felt only half alive. He could not rest, he could not eat, he could hardly breathe until those piercing blue eyes opened again, and he felt the full force of Jim Kirk's conscious mind rush back into the world.

Spock had thought perhaps the ties that bound him to this now most precious life would release him then, but they did not. Instead of dissipating, the connection between them only strengthened with time. That tiny spark became a roaring flame that threatened to consume him entire.

There was Nyota, so patient and steadfast in her love, her body underneath his as they moved together in the dark. The very first time they engaged in physical intimacy, Spock's mind instinctively reached out to hers to complete the connection. It was a jarring and uncomfortable moment, during which her mind shut him out abruptly with a violent mental flail that seemed to cause her pain.

Nyota gasped, pulling away from him briefly and Spock restrained himself ever since. He would never wish to force the matter or harm her in any way, so they remained together yet separate even when their bodies were joined. It was enough and yet not. Spock accepted that this was likely how it must always be with humans, with their delicate minds so unused to psychic activity. He wondered more than once how his father endured it.

Then there was Kirk, Captain, _Jim—_ the inexplicable bond between them always there, drawing him towards it with increasing temptation. Jim's thoughts and feelings were always so brazenly projected in bold text for anyone and everyone to read. It was almost obscene, how that bright mind seemed to _flaunt_ itself so wantonly into Spock's awareness at the slightest provocation. There Jim was, sitting across from him in at the too-small table in the captain's study, and it was an exquisite torture to deny the invitation Jim clearly had no idea his mind kept projecting every time their legs or hands would absently brush.

"_Do you love him?"_ The answer was glaringly obvious. Had it been there all along, waiting patiently to be discovered?

"_It is possible."_

Then they were underwater, and Spock was watching Kirk's body go limp and begin to drift away from him. An irrational panic threatened to wash away his reason, _notagainnotagain_, and it was with more difficulty than usual that he shoved his emotions back to focus on the problem at hand. The communications may have malfunctioned but the sensors were fully operational, and he pushed the thrusters on his biosuit to the maximum as they propelled towards the nearest viable cave.

Then Jim was safe, but not well. Despite the fact that he was breathing, his heart was beating, and he had not lost consciousness, his mind was in turmoil. Spock could practically feel Jim's mind screaming through their minimal contact, and it was nearly a physical pain. Spock's voice alone could not break through it, but when he raised his hand in the most logical course of action he could not follow through. His second choice was more impulsive than he cared to admit, and more than a little self-serving. It was brutally effective, however, so he could ignore how the feel of Jim Kirk's mouth against his own made somewhere deep within him _ache._

Uncertainty bubbled to the surface from somewhere deep within, as he watched Jim shivering still and radiating pain that was beyond Spock's ability to alleviate. That same helplessness Spock had felt when his captain was slipping away in front of him gripped him once more. Jim was not a fragile creature, and yet his mind seemed a delicate thing and if it broke, what would be left?

"_I would break every Starfleet regulation on record to keep you from perishing again." _Spock would write new regulations simply to break them over and over if that should be required. The very thought of watching those blue eyes snuff out again, whether from death or madness, made him understand the fear that crippled Jim. Even not being human, it was nearly enough to bring Spock to his knees.

_Never again._

Then finally, finally…

Joining with Jim had been the easiest thing in the world, sinking into him mind, body, and soul without the slightest shred of resistance. Jim's emotions were so very raw and vibrant and unashamed, so different from anything Spock had ever experienced. Spock never wanted to leave, had to rip himself away every time and it _hurt…_

Kirk pulled away finally, his head aching and dizzy and too full. He sat back on the bed, gasping and overwhelmed as he tried to reclaim his sense of self enough to separate one from the other again. Spock gave him several long minutes to collect himself in silence.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just- damn, that's intense." Kirk ran an unsteady hand over his face, doing his best to shake it off and pull himself together. Powerful emotions still coursed through him, bleeding together with his own.

"I apologize if-"

"No don't, it's fine." Kirk reached over and caught Spock's hand, crushing their fingers together a little too tightly but the Vulcan did not object. "Spock…" He swallowed, once, before starting again. "Look, I don't know… I'm not good at this kind of stuff. Actually I'm pretty shitty at it."

"I seem to be rather deficient in this area, as well."

Jim could not help a small grin at that. "I guess we're pretty evenly matched, then."

"It would appear." A small smile tugged at the corner of Spock's mouth. Just because he could, Kirk leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against that tiny quirking smile.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kirk murmured against Spock's mouth after a moment, resting their foreheads together gently. Thankfully Spock kept his thoughts to himself for now, because Kirk wasn't sure if he could handle a second go just yet. It was going to take a lot more practice in the future to learn how to keep from feeling like his head was exploding every time their minds linked like that. "Death can kiss my ass."

"I believe it already has." This surprised a laugh out of Kirk, who grinned.

"I'm serious about this, you know. About you." Kirk reached up to brush his fingers down the side of Spock's neck lightly. "I know it's not logical, and it probably breaks about a billion regulations-"

"Four point five regulations, to be precise." Spock's own fingers buried in Kirk's hair, drawing him close. "And yet historically I have noticed such regulations are frequently unilaterally ignored to very little consequence, which is-"

"Illogical," Kirk breathed out another soft laugh, shifting his weight to push Spock back against the bed. "I think I've been a bad influence on you, Commander."

"Undoubtedly."

* * *

_Would I live my life over again? Make the same unforgivable mistakes? Yes, given half a chance. Yes. _

-from Rain, by Raymond Carver

* * *

**Author Notes: **Thank you to everyone who has left such lovely and thoughtful feedback on both this story and The Descent. I appreciate it more than you know. :)

A huge thanks also to my lovely betas, who helped me tackle this into something beyond an aimless ramble: Ross1991, Elizabeth (The-Awesome-Anonymous), Laura (SabreToothOrangePop), Shannon (DapperDestruction), Syrus, and IcySapphire. Ross, thank you especially for your patience and honesty! Surgery is often most successful with a sharp knife. :)


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